Shattered glass strewn across the road
that glitters like diamonds in the night,
sharp like razors, draw blood from skin.
Once pieced together, they form the windshield of
Now his Thrill lies crushed up,
broken, a useless pile of trash,
in the middle of it all.
Passers-by stop to look and marvel at
having seen blood, so much blood, enough to
fill many buckets, to flood a tiny village,
that isn't out of a Hollywood blockbuster.
And the night goes on, the cars drive on
and the people walk on.
He lies there still,
surrounded by a crimson flood,
being robbed of a portion of his life
that he can't get back.
And the diamonds, they glitter
Them blood, they shine
like the other side of